Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) (11 page)

“Would you truly like me to leave?”

Agatha, mouth full of strawberry, shook her head, making the lace cap shift about her wispy white hair. “Now that you’re here, you might as well stay,” she said finally. “You know I haven’t thought about Hallie for the longest time. We used to have such grand adventures together.”

“Tell me,” Sarah prompted. And Agatha did.

The afternoon sun painted the bedroom with dusty shadows, but neither Agatha nor her guest noticed. Lost in the memories of her youth, Agatha found a captive audience in Sarah. No matter how insignificant the story, to Sarah it was fascinating. She marveled at Agatha’s daring and total disregard for the confines of society. And more than once she suppressed a giggle when she thought of Agatha living in Salem. Rebecca would love to hear the stories, but Sarah knew even she would be shocked by Agatha’s devil-may-care attitudes. In the midst of a particularly scandalous tale, both women were startled by the rap on the door.

Sarah scrambled awkwardly to her feet as Nick crossed the room.

“And how is my favorite girl?” He gave Agatha’s pale cheek a hearty kiss, then turned to gaze at Sarah. Wisps of midnight hair had pulled free from her cap to curl about her delicate features. “I see your visitor is still alive and sports no visible bruises. Can I conclude than that you have had a good day?” His dark-sapphire eyes smiled down at his grandmother, and Sarah felt her knees melt.

Agatha gave his hand a playful swat. “Behave yourself, Nicky. Sarah brought me strawberries.”

“She did, did she?” Nick’s eyes returned to her, and Sarah felt the heat in the room intensify. “And you saved none for me?” His wounded expression made Agatha smile.

“Not a one,” she said smugly.

“Yes, we did,” Sarah answered at the same time. She blushed as both grandmother and grandson turned to stare at her. “I asked Wadsworth to reserve some for your supper tonight.”

“Well, well.” Nick turned a satisfied smile back to his grandmother. “It seems that someone is watching out for me after all. Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah turned her innocent eyes from one to the other, knowing she had missed something, but not sure what.

“Humph.” Agatha’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “At least Sarah saw fit to bring me a gift, which is more than I can say for you.”

Nick’s dark eyes widened with surprise. “You expect me to bring you a gift?”

Agatha shrugged. “That would have been nice. But, as usual, I see you are empty- handed.”

“Ah, that I am,” Nick teased, placing his arm gently about his grandmother’s frail shoulders. “Definitely empty-handed. But that simply makes it easier for me to hug you.”

Agatha struggled to hide her smile as she tried to push him away. “I would rather have had a present.”

“Ah, Gran.” He kissed her cheek, inhaling the rose scent that clung to her clothing. “It just so happens that I have a gift for you, too.” He gave Sarah a wink and then reached into his pocket to retrieve the package.

Agatha hesitated a moment, holding the package in the palm of her hand. The sparkle of her eyes spoke of her excitement even as she tried to pout. “I don’t know if I should bother – “

“Oh, but ‘tis lovely,” Sarah interrupted, not knowing this was a game they played each time Nick brought his grandmother a gift. “You must open it.”

Agatha raised a brow and gave Nick a searching look. “How is it that Sarah knows about my present?”

Nick shook his head as he read the true question behind Agatha’s words. “Why don’t you just open it,” he said firmly, refusing to rise to her bait.

Without waiting for permission, but knowing that Agatha could never manage the wrapping, Nick unfastened the package and placed it back in her hand so she had only to lift back the paper to view her surprise. Sarah waited with stilled breath as Agatha peeled back the wrapping.

“Oh, Nicky.” Agatha beamed as she discarded the brown paper and palmed the necklace. “It is beautiful.” She awkwardly held the chain higher to better view the workmanship. “Did Walter Johnson make this?” She peered at the design wishing she had a party to go to where she might show it off. “He probably charged you an arm and a leg for it. His prices are always too dear.”

“If you don’t care for it, I could take it back,” Nick teased.

Agatha bared her teeth and snarled in his direction. “Don’t you dare try to take back my present. I declare, Nicky, I think this is the nicest thing you have ever given to me.”

Nick smiled, genuinely pleased that Gran was happy. “You say that about everything I give you.”

“Agatha shook her head and pressed the necklace between her knotted hands. “I definitely think that this is the best present ever.”

“Sarah picked it out.” Even as the words left his mouth, Nick knew he had made a mistake. But he almost laughed out loud at the stunned expressions on both their faces.

“Oh . . ."

A thousand questions echoed in the single word Agatha uttered, and Nick knew it was timely to make his exit. “We have to be going, Gran. But I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Agatha watched her grandson turn, and noted the faintest blush that touched his high cheekbones.
Well, well, well
, she thought.
This is an interesting kettle of fish
. “Sarah,” she turned to the girl. “The necklace is lovely. You have a keen eye for quality. But tell me, what did Nick give you?”

Not realizing she had just been outwitted, and unused to deception of any type, Sarah immediately stepped forward and extended her arm allowing the bracelet to slip from beneath her cuff. “‘Tis the most beautiful thing I have ever received,” she said, holding forth her arm for Agatha’s inspection. Agatha’s bent fingers touched the bracelet and she smiled knowingly. Sarah felt a suffocating guilt suddenly surround her.
What am I doing
? She thought frantically. ‘
Tis bad enough I have accepted such a gift, but now I am flaunting it
. Her cheeks grew hot and, as quickly as she could, she pulled back her arm and tried to tuck the piece back under her sleeve.

“If you do that,” Agatha nodded toward her wrist, “no one will be able to see your beautiful gift.” She watched the color stain the young girl’s cheeks, and the wheels in Agatha’s sharp mind spun faster. She turned back to her grandson and found him also captivated by Sarah’s sudden discomfort.
Well, well, well
, she repeated to herself.
Just what do we have here?

“You must stay for dinner, Nick,” Agatha commanded in her strongest voice.

Nick smiled but shook his head. He could almost hear his grandmother’s thoughts. “I have business later this evening.”

“Then leave Sarah to dine with me and fetch her on your return.”

Nick touched Sarah’s shoulder and motioned her toward the door so she wouldn’t be pulled into his grandmother’s trap. “Not tonight Gran. I’ll stop in and see you one the morrow.”

Agatha folded her arms across her chest, her foot tapping against the hard wood floor. “I think you have more than business on your mind, Nicholas Beaumont.”

Nick gave Sarah a gentle nudge out the door before crossing back to place a kiss on his grandmother’s head. “I have business in Jamestown tomorrow. I’ll stop by on my way to the docks.”

Agatha gave him a horrified look. “Nicholas Beaumont, don’t you dare call on this house before noon. You know how I hate rushing in the morning.”

“Afraid I’ll catch you in your nightrail?” he teased, flashing her a devilish grin.

“You come on your way home, that way you can tell me what’s going on.”

Nick smiled and executed a courtly bow. “I am your servant, Madame.”

Agatha snorted. “And the day I believe that, pigs will fly.” But Nick had already closed the door and her words amused no one but herself. With great effort, Agatha pulled at the heavy brocade drapery to stare out the window. She could see Nick’s carriage and, within moments, Nick and Sarah came into view. Agatha watched her grandson hold Sarah’s arm to assist her, his laughter ringing in the air.

Well, well, well
, she thought again. Neither Nick nor Sarah looked up toward the window where she sat, and neither knew that she stared after them until the carriage was completely out of view.

Agatha let the curtain fall back in place and thought about Nick’s visit. He might have come to see
her
, but he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from the girl.
He’s in love
, she thought.
He’s in love and he hasn’t even realized it yet
. A strange unsettling feeling seeped into her bones, and Agatha suddenly longed for her bed. Nick would marry and then he’d never have time to visit or take a meal with her. He’d want to spend all his time with his new bride. Agatha felt her chest grow tight and her eyelids sting. He’d make a call out of duty now and then, but he’d be too busy with his new family to be really interested in an old woman like herself. She felt tears gather and sniffed hard. Her trembling hand reached for the golden bell to fetch the maids, then she paused.

Perhaps Nick’s being in love wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. Sarah was a sweet girl and a grand improvement over Marigold Thurmont. She would be good for Nick, Agatha decided, thinking of the afternoon they had just spent. Agatha pressed her knotted fingers together and rested her chin on her hand. With a little badgering, Sarah would probably urge Nicky to spend even more time with her, she thought, and her spirits began to brighten. And if Nick gets married, she realized suddenly, then I’ll get grandbabies. The image of holding Nick’s child on her lap sent joy seeping into every joint of her aching body. The notion of losing her grandson slowly gave way to a plan that would ensure Sarah remained in Virginia.

Agatha worked out the entire scheme in her mind, then rethought her logic the way Roger had always insisted she do with business matters.

“It will work,” she declared triumphantly to the empty room. A new sense of purpose made her giddy with excitement as she reached for the bell.

Luther entered, carrying a silver tray with her medicine cup.

“I already fixed the drink, Miss Agatha,” he stated proudly. “It’s not too hot and just the way Miss Sarah showed me. So you drink it right up now.”

Impatiently, Agatha balanced the cup and, to Luther’s amazement, drank the potion straight down without a protest.

“Luther,” Agatha tried to hide her growing enthusiasm, “I’d like you to arrange for Mr. Danvers to call upon me tomorrow. I have some legal matters I wish to discuss with him.”

Luther rubbed his chin and looked confused. “I thought I heard Master Nick say that Mr. Danvers wasn’t your attorney no more.”

Agatha grinned with satisfaction. “You’re absolutely right. Mr. Danvers no longer works for Beaumont Shipping. But I have matters of a personal nature.”

“You sure, Miss Agatha? I thought you didn’t care for that man.”

Agatha smiled and, with some difficulty, rubbed her fingers together. “I can’t abide the man. But for what I have in mind, Michael Danvers will be perfect.” She looked up, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I’m going to need an ace in the hole for this hand, Luther. And if I have my way Mr. Michael Danvers, attorney-at-law, is going to become my ace.”

Luther folded his arms across his massive chest. “And just how is it that I already know that you don’t’ want me to say nothing to Master Nick?”

Agatha gave her servant a conspiratorial wink. “Things are going to be wonderful around here, Luther. You just trust me and wait and see. And Luther. . .” she said as he turned to do her bidding, “make sure that Mr. Danvers calls on me well before noon.”

Luther nodded and left the room. Young Ruby entered, gave a curtsy to her mistress, and began to light the tapers to push back the night. But Agatha never noticed. With her shawl pulled tight about her shoulders, she began to gently rock to and fro.

Ruby paused to stare at her mistress. In the three years she had worked for Miss Agatha, she had never heard the woman sing. But now Miss Agatha was humming a lullaby. Fascinated, she watched from the corner of her eye until her task was completed.
Wait until they hear this in the kitchen
! she thought. With a quick curtsy, the girl silently made her exit.

Agatha never noticed. She was completely absorbed with thoughts of holding Nicky’s child.

Chapter Ten

“But I want you to have it.”

Sarah stared in wonder at the vibrant woolen threads that cascaded over her palm. “Mrs. Beaumont, these are too beautiful to give away.”

Agatha shifted against her pillows then wished she hadn’t moved. “What they are is too pretty to keep locked up in that old chest.” She smothered a groan then relented. “Sarah, could you help me?”

Sarah rose from where she knelt beside an ornately carved chest. “You ate too many strawberries yesterday,” she scolded, but her hands were gentle as she resettled Agatha in her high tester bed.

“Rubbish, the ache in my bones ahs nothing to do with strawberries,” Agatha huffed.

“No, but the ache in your stomach does.” Sarah raised a brow as Agatha began to pout.

“Are you gong to finish unpacking that chest or are you going to stand there staring at me all day?” Agatha folded her arms and returned Sarah’s glare measure for measure. Sarah smiled, shook her head, and moved back to the chest.

“I meant it when I said I want you to take that yarn.” Agatha gestured to the loose bundles that Sarah had just set aside.

Sarah picked up the brightly colored hanks and knew they cost a pretty penny. Indigo, saffron, and a bright cherry-red sparkled in the sunlight while a wide assortment of greens and browns still covered the floor.

“I started to make a set of chair settees, but after making one, I lacked the patience to see it through. Do you see them?” Agatha peered over the foot of the bed. “They should be in there somewhere. Unless they’ve fallen apart by now.”

“Here they are,” Sarah cheered triumphantly. She unfolded a large square of heavy linen to reveal an intricate pattern of animals and fruit trees. “Did you do this?” Her fingers traced over the complex stitches and the delicate shading.

Agatha nodded with pride, but her smile faded as she looked down at her gnarled hands. “I always meant to go back and finish those. But now,” she sighed deeply, “it’s too late. Still,” she brightened, “I could have the finished piece made into a pillow. It shouldn’t take one of Charlotte’s girls too long, and then it would be ready in time for Nick’s engagement announcement.”

Sarah felt her knees go weak. She sank back to her kneeling position on the floor and held onto the corner of the trunk for support. “Mr. Beaumont is engaged?” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking.

Agatha shook her head, making her lace cap slip from side to side. “He’s decided to settle down and start a family, but I don’t think he’s made a final decision yet as to who the lucky girl will be. Personally, I wish he would hurry and make up his mind. I want to hold my grandson.”

“But he hasn’t decided who to marry, you say?” Sarah tried to still the frantic beating of her heart as breath again entered her lungs.

Agatha pleated the bed linen with her bent fingers. “I think he’ll make the most beautiful babies, don’t you?” From the corner of her eye she watched the color drain from Sarah’s face only to bounce back again, and her voice lowered to a secret whisper. “He might be my grandson, but let me tell you, Nicholas is one fine specimen of a man. With that thick black wavy hair and those dark sapphire eyes, and strong . . . Why, did you know that Nick can – “

“Would you like a fresh glass of lemonade, Mrs. Beaumont?” Sarah interrupted. “I thought I heard Luther say that Mrs. Killingham had made some special. Why don’t I just go down and fetch it for you.”

“Don’t bother.” Agatha struggled not to smile. “I’ll just ring for it. Have you ever noticed how well Nick fills out his jacket?”

Sarah snatched the golden bell out of reach and placed it on the dresser. “I’ll save Luther the trip,” she stammered. “You just rest a moment and I’ll be right back.”

Agatha watched in amusement as Sarah fled the room.
This is going to be even easier than I thought
, she giggled with satisfaction. And with her hands folded meekly on her lap and an angelic smile on her wrinkled face, Agatha patiently waited for Sarah to reappear.

* * *

Sarah stared down at the folded invitation in confusion. Her afternoon with Agatha was slowly turning into a nightmare. First, the woman had gone on for ages about Nick and his virtues until Sarah thought she might go crazy from the images that sprang to mind, and now there was an invitation from people she had never met. “But, Mrs. Beaumont, why should the Bellinghams want me to dine with them?”

“Because they are important friends of mine,” Agatha stated calmly. She took in Sarah’s confused look and continued. “And since you are the granddaughter of my oldest friend from the North, 'tis only proper that they should invite us to dine. But I am incapacitated, so the invitation is for you and Nicholas.”

“Mrs. Beaumont, I’m nobody’s granddaughter. My grandparents died before I was born.” Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she noted the contented smile on Agatha’s pale face. “Do you even have a friend in the North?”

Agatha’s grin grew wider still. “Not that I’d lay claim to.”

“Then they are inviting me under false pretenses.”

Agatha shrugged. “It matters not. They want to meet you.”

Sarah shook her head and set the folded note back on the bed within Agatha’s reach. “It matters to
me
,” she said quietly. “You want me to lie, and I cannot do that.”

Agatha’s smile faded as she snatched back the invitation. “No one is asking you to lie, dear.” She struggled to keep the impatience from her words. “Just be a little creative with the truth.”

Again Sarah shook her head. “I can’t do that.” Her voice held disappointment. “You spoke a falsehood to say that you knew my family, and I can’t allow it to continue.”

“You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t enjoy spending a social evening in the company of my grandson? Why, you’d be treated like visiting royalty – a queen. You’d have a romantic carriage ride, the finest food, and company I can guarantee will amuse you.” Agatha’s sense of anxiety set her stomach to churning again. She had never thought of Sarah as being anything but agreeable. “I’m sure you’ll have a glamorous evening,” she said, giving an exaggerated wink. “Especially in the company of Nick. He’s so handsome. Don’t you agree?”

Sarah felt her bracelet caress the sensitive skin of her wrist, and her resolve frayed even more. “Mr. Beaumont is indeed a most handsome man,” she stammered, “as you well know.” Sarah took a deep breath to strengthen her convictions. “But to lie for the sake of gaining an evening’s entertainment would be a travesty.”

“Then perhaps it is time for you to leave, since you won’t do this simple favor for me.” Agatha shifted on her bed, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation.

Sarah gathered the unfinished embroidery. “I would do most anything for you,” she said quietly. “But you ask too much when you ask me to lie and deceive for your pleasure.”

“Just take the wool and go then.” Agatha scowled, looking pointedly toward the door. “I don’t need friends who can’t be depended on.”

Sarah left the room with a heavy heart. Declining Luther’s offer to fetch a carriage, she chose to walk home. The afternoon was clear and breezy, and the fresh air felt cool against the warmth of her face.

You really know how to tempt me, don’t you, Lord
? she thought as she slowly made her way alongside the road. She had only to close her eyes to feel Nick’s arms about her. He had held her so tenderly when she had cried for her family. But tenderness gave way to passion as Sarah relived their kiss in the garden. “What am I going to do?” she cried to the gathering clouds. “In just another few weeks I shall be on my way back home.”

“Hey, Miss Sarah, you lost or something?”

Startled from her thoughts, Sarah looked up to find young Jimmy Richardson, hoop in hand, directly before her. Her eyes darted about only to realize that she must have walked well past the road to Nick’s house.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Richardson.”

Jimmy scuffed the dirt with his bare foot and peeked up at her through the sun-streaked hair that hung in his face. “Aww, you can just call me Jimmy. What’s you doing out this way? You didn’t change your mind and decide to tell my ma that I knocked you down, did you?”

Sarah smiled, and shook her head. “I was taking a walk and I guess I just wasn’t watching where I was going. Pretty silly, don’t you think?”

Jimmy gave her an appraising look. “It sure is, but then you’re a funny lady. You want me to take you back?”

Sarah looked at the shanty that stood off to the side of the road. Smaller than the cookhouse behind Nick’s mansion, the door of the shack hung ajar and the boards were in desperate need of paint. A thriving garden filled the side yard. Sarah turned back to Jimmy. “Is that your garden?” she asked, walking toward the rickety fence.

Jimmy climbed on the gate and let his weight swing it open. “Yep, I keep the weeds out myself.” A wide-eyed young child with a rag doll hesitantly made her way through the well-tended rows. “Jessie, you get out of those beans.”

Before Sarah even registered the mishap, Jimmy Richardson flew from his perch on the gate to rescue the beans from the child.

“This here’s Jessie,” he said, holding the squirming child for Sarah’s approval. “She's almost two years old.”

Sarah held out her hand. “How do you do, Miss Jessie?” At the sound of Sarah’s voice, Jessie stopped her struggles to get down and allowed her brother to hold her.

“Hey, she likes you,” Jimmy declared. “Jessie don’t stand still for no one, not even Ma.”

Sarah took in the dirt-covered clothing worn by both children and wondered if either child had ever been bathed. Jessie had her brother’s bright eyes, but her hair, like her brother’s, was grimy with dirt.

“Jimmy, is your mother home?” Sarah asked softly, offering her finger for Jessie to grab.

Jimmy’s brow pulled into a frown. “I thought you said you wasn’t going to tell her.”

“Oh, but I’m not,” Sarah said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s just that it would be terribly rude of me to stand at your gate and talk with you and your sister and then completely ignore your mother.”

“Well, I don’t know . . ."

Jimmy’s decision was made for him midstride when Mrs. Richardson stepped from the house. “Jimmy, who’s that at the gate? I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”

Sarah watched a woman not much older than herself walk wearily from the house. Her hair hung in limp strands about her pale face, her gray eyes were flat and lifeless, and her shoulders hunched as if she bore the weight of the world.

“I’m sorry, miss, for whatever he’s done. He’s a good boy, but sometimes he’s just a little too full of life.”

Sarah smiled and extended her hand. “No, no,” she reassured the woman. “Jimmy hasn’t done anything. We met yesterday in town and he was most polite.”

Jimmy beamed with relief and turned an innocent smile to his mother.

Mrs. Richardson’s look clearly showed she didn’t believe a word Sarah said, but she was grateful there was no trouble. “You must be from the North,” she said slowly, taking the baby from her son.

Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise. “How ever did you guess?”

“‘Cause you talk funny,” Jimmy answered.

“James!” Mrs. Richardson shifted the baby to her other hip and glared at her son. “Sometimes he says things before he thinks.”

Jimmy looked at this mother with confusion. He knew he was in trouble from the tone of her voice, but he wasn’t sure why. “But she does, Ma, just listen to her. Go on, Miss Sarah, say something.”

“Actually, Jimmy,” Sarah gave him a wink.” 'Tis not I who speaks strangely but you.” This sent Jimmy into gales of laughter. “My name is Sarah Townsend,” she introduced herself, smiling at the woman, “and I think you most fortunate to have two such beautiful children.”

Gracie Richardson’s eyes grew wide and heat filled her face. No one had ever complimented her before. She wiped her hand on her dirty apron before hesitantly extending it toward her guest. “I’m Gracie,” she stammered. “This here’s Jessie. She’s my youngest.”

Sarah let her finger trace down the child’s round cheek and wished for a damp rag to wash it clean. “She’s going to be quite a beauty when she grows up.”

Gracie studied her daughter thoughtfully. “She’ll do fine. But Catherine – now she’s the real beauty in the family.”

Jessie had discovered Sarah’s bracelet and contented herself with trying to untie the links. “And how old is Catherine?” Sarah asked.

“She just turned ten and three.” Grace Richardson again shifted the hefty toddler. “Would you like to come in for a cup of cider?” she asked in a hesitant tone. “It’s fresh; we just drew it this morning.”

Pleased at the invitation, Sarah allowed Jimmy to swing the gate wide so she might enter. She followed Gracie Richardson and her children through the yard and into the house. The inside of the shanty was in the same disrepair as the outside, but obvious attempts had been made there to keep what little the family owned neat and tidy. One large bed filled the corner of the room and, even from a distance, Sarah could see that the coverlets were threadbare. A young girl sat patiently working a butter churn.

“Catherine, this is Miss Townsend.” Gracie looked about the room with embarrassment and wondered what she had been thinking of to invite someone inside. “Will you fetch us some fresh cider?” The girl nodded and Grace turned back to her guest. “Here, you take the chair,” she stammered. “I’m used to the stool.” She set the baby down and Jimmy plopped on the floor between them.